The promise of death

Alpha Orion's Pov:

She was dying in my arms, and I was powerless to stop it - despite being the most powerful Alpha in the world.

"Please don't leave me. Please," I begged, cradling Stella's weak body against my chest. Her once vibrant eyes—those mesmerizing green eyes that had captivated me from the moment I first saw her—were now clouded with pain.

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, staining her pale skin crimson and her golden blonde hair. Even then she looked very beautiful - like an Angel dying.

For thirty years, I had conquered kingdoms. For thirty years, I had been Alpha Orion, the Tyrant - feared by all who dared cross my path. I had crushed enemies beneath my heel, had torn rival alphas limb from limb with my bare hands.

Alpha Orion - My name alone made the bravest warriors tremble.

And yet here I knelt, destroyed by a single moment of carelessness.

"I really don't want to leave you," Stella whispered, her voice barely audible. Another violent cough wracked her fragile frame, more blood spilling from her lips. "But I don't have a choice..."

Something hot and unfamiliar burned my eyes. I blinked, and felt wetness trail down my cheek. A teardrop fell onto Stella's face, mingling with her blood.

Crying? Was I crying? Was a monster like me even capable of that?!

I heard the sharp intake of breath from my warriors surrounding us. In their eyes, I saw something I'd never witnessed before—shock. Pure, unadulterated shock.

They had seen me slaughter entire packs without flinching, had watched me rip heads from bodies with my claws and fangs. They had followed me through blood-soaked battlefields, and had witnessed me rule as a dictator who showed no mercy.

But never had they seen me cry. Never had they thought they would.

"Alpha?" one of them ventured, his voice uncertain.

I ignored him, focusing only on my mate—my everything. "Please don't leave me," I whispered, pressing my forehead against hers. "I can't live without you."

The weakness in my voice disgusted me. I was Alpha Orion. I took what I wanted. I conquered what I desired. Death itself should fear me, should bow before my will.

"I will not let you die," I growled, suddenly stern as determination flooded my veins. "You are my mate."

I lifted my head, eyes blazing as I addressed my warriors. "Find a med-witch! Now!" My voice thundered through the small cottage, making the windows rattle. "Scour every inch of this forest if you have to!"

Most of them scattered immediately, desperate to fulfill my command. But I knew deep down it was futile. We were in our most remote safe house, hidden deep within the ancient forest, protected by enchantments so powerful that even the most skilled trackers couldn't find us.

Or so I had thought.

My jaw clenched as fury rose within me. How had Valentin's assassins found my mate? How had they broken through my carefully constructed defenses and targeted my mate while I was occupied with the war? The enchantments should have held. No one should have been able to breach them.

Yet someone had.

And Stella had paid the price.

"No one can help her now," a small voice whispered in my mind. "She's dying, and it's your fault."

"No!" I roared, startling the remaining warriors. "She will not die. She is mine to protect!"

I moved to stand, to join the search myself, but Stella's trembling hand caught my wrist with surprising strength. Her long fingers, once warm and soft, now felt like ice against my skin.

"Don't," she whispered. "Don't leave me."

I froze, torn between staying with her and hunting down someone—anyone—who could save her life.

"Take care of our twins," she continued, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling, toward the hidden chambers where our children slept, blissfully unaware that their mother was dying. "They are safe in the safe house. Somehow, I managed to save them."

"But Stella, my love..." My voice broke. Our children. Our beautiful, innocent children.

How could I raise them without her? How could I be the father they needed when all I knew was conquest and bloodshed?

Her breathing grew more labored, her chest rising and falling in irregular patterns. The scent of death clung to her, growing stronger with each passing second, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to howl in despair.

"After I'm gone," she managed, each word clearly causing her agony, "give up your war and blood—nurture our twins—our legacy."

Her eyes, once so full of light and warmth, began to dim. I could sense her slipping away from me, her soul preparing to depart for realms where I could not follow.

"No, Stella, don't you dare leave me," I commanded, as if my Alpha voice could intimidate death itself. "Fight, damn you! Fight for me, for our children!"

But even as the words left my lips, I knew it was too late. The poison had spread too far, and had claimed too much of her. The assassin's blade had been enchanted with some ancient poison and spell - designed specifically to deliver a blow from which there could be no quick recovery.

"Promise me," she breathed, her voice now barely a whisper. "Promise me, Orion."

Even though I was a Tyrant, I was good to my mate - she was the only one who knew that Alpha Orion has a sweet side.

I had never denied her anything in life.

How could I deny her while she was about to die?!

"I promise," I choked out. "I will nurture our legacy. I will raise our children with all the love you would have given them."

A faint smile touched her blood stained lips. "Goodbye, my love!”

"Stella..." I pleaded one last time.

But she was already gone. The light fled from her eyes, leaving nothing but empty vessels that stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Her hand fell limply from my wrist.

"Stella!" I screamed, clutching her body against mine, as if I could force life back into her through sheer will alone. "STELLA!"

My howl of agony shattered the night, a sound so primal and filled with pain that my warriors flinched and lowered their heads in grief.

At that moment, I was not Alpha Orion the Tyrant. I was simply a man who had lost his heart, his soul, his reason for living.

And as I held her cooling body in my arms, I made another promise—one I would carry with me until my dying day, and beyond.

"If the Moon Goddess grants us a second chance in another life," I whispered against her hair, "I will love you properly. Not as a possession to be guarded, but as an equal to be cherished and respected. I will be worthy of you."

Little did I know then that the Goddess was listening.

And that a thousand years later, she would answer my prayer.

…..

A Thousand years later, in modern Day New York City…..

I bolt upright in bed, heart hammering against my ribs, sheets tangled around my sweat-slicked body. The digital clock on my nightstand reads 3:17 AM—the witching hour, as the old legends call it.

"Fuck my life," I mutter, running a hand through my damp brown hair. "It's the same dream all over again."

The same woman dying in my arms. The same crushing feeling of helplessness. The same promise whispered as life left her body.

It feels more like a memory than a dream—vivid, tangible, real.

I swing my legs over the side of my king-sized bed, letting the cool air from the AC hit my overheated skin. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my Manhattan penthouse, the city gleams like a collection of stars fallen to earth.

"Who is even that girl?" I whisper to myself. "Could she be real?"